


Reflections From The Bottom of a Scotch Bottle

by TigerLily



Category: CSI: Miami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerLily/pseuds/TigerLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio reflects on his relationship with a departed member of the lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections From The Bottom of a Scotch Bottle

_Light and dark._

_Bud and blossom._

_Fire and water._

_Ocean and sky._

&/&/&

Megan Donner had been Horatio Caine's opposite in all things. His opposite until the unexpected death of her husband in the line of duty, and then for a little while she knew what it meant to lose something so precious as family.

As Horatio emerged from the shell he had crawled into upon the death of his brother, Megan retreated into one of her own. She stepped down as the supervisor of the crime lab and Horatio stepped into that void.

When Megan had returned, Horatio had offered her the job back. She had refused and they settled down into an intricate dance routine. She advised and he would listen. He would suggest and she would play along.

Until one day....

Al Humphreys had been a mentor and friend to Horatio. His unexpected death had ripped a hole in Horatio's already tormented soul. Megan had went with Horatio to the memorial service and then to Al's house afterwards. She had been his moral support despite reliving the memories of her loss.

That night they had given into the desire to be held and comforted by another person.

That night also was the death knoll to their friendship, but neither one realized it as such.

One day Megan was at the lab and the next she was gone leaving Horatio to reflect on their friendship.

&/&/&

Horatio walked into the Blue Parrot slipping his sunglasses into the breast pocket of his polo shirt. He heaved a silent sigh of relief. This evening he had planned to just be himself and not the persona he had been hiding behind for years. The Horatio Caine of the Miami-Dade Police Department had the night off.

He spotted an empty spot near the end of the bar and made his way over half listening to the trio on stage. The music flowed over him and eased some of the tension coiled inside of him.

He slipped onto the stool and waited to be served.

&/&/&

Rhonda Morgan had tried to call off, but her boss wouldn't buy any of her excuses, so she had come to work in a sour mood. She was of the opinion that a person shouldn't have to work on their birthday, but here she was doing just that.

She kept a weathered eye on the door of the club hoping against hope that someone interesting would come in and liven up a slow Wedensday night. Her prayer was answered when a tall, casually dressed redhead walked in pocketing his sunglasses as he gave the place a quick once over.

Rhonda made note of several things. He wore an off-white polo shirt with the top two buttons undone over faded blue jeans which he paired with penny loafers. He was on the slender side like that of an athlete, but exuded a 'don't-mess-with-me' attitude. She figured he was either ex-military or a cop.

She watched him slip on the stool near her end of the bar and she had to clench her jaw to keep it from dropping in shock. He was a deadringer for her cousin, Kiernan O'Keefe.

He had the same world weary set to his shoulders and appeared older than the hills. Rhonda knew she had her hands full cheering him up, but she always enjoyed a challenge.

&/&/&

"So, what's your poison?" Rhonda asked, breaking into Horatio's thoughts.

"Scotch neat," Horatio ordered. He looked up and almost lost himself in a pair of mischievous hazel eyes. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at him with a hint of sexual interest. He gave her a warm smile.

Rhonda felt her heart flip when he smiled. It had instantly made him appear younger. She fixed his drink and placed it in front of him. "What's her name?" she inquired, gently. She didn't want to scare him away.

Horatio took a sip of his drink noting that it was a good quality Scotch. "What makes you think that?" he countered. He liked the sound of her voice. It was husky with a hint of Appalachia.

"You look like that Tracy Byrd song."

"Tracy Byrd?" Horatio only knew of him because of Calleigh. She always tuned the radio in the Hummer to a country station when they worked together.

"Ten Rounds With Jose Curevo," Rhonda replied with a small grin.

"Ahh..." Horatio murmured. "Tequila isn't my thing."

"Mine neither," Rhonda agreed. Holding out her hand she introduced herself. "By the way, the name's Rhonda."

Horatio took her hand and gave it a gentle shake. He liked the feel of it. It was slender without being boney and soft despite the harsh realities of a bartender. "Horatio," he said in kind.

"As in Hamlet's best friend?" Rhonda thought it was a unique name. One that probably hadn't seen any use since the mid 1800's. "Or Horatio Alger?"

"The first one," Horatio replied in mild surprise. "Not many folks get that."

"Former Lit major," Rhonda admitted with a wry chuckle. "And my father read Shakespeare to me at bedtime when I was little."

"That's scary," Horatio remarked. "My mother read Hamlet to me as a bedtime story when I was younger. Wanted me to know that she had named me after an honorable man."

"That she did."

&/&/&

Rhonda took Horatio's keys after his third drink. When she fixed his fourth drink, she poured herself a glass of tea and toasted the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


End file.
